Why Do You Have the Blessings of All Four Gods Too?

He could clearly feel the four gazes coming from the depths of the Warp and landing on him, like four invisible rays of light enveloping him.

There was scrutiny, expectation, and a hint of something deeper that he couldn't decipher in that gaze.

Immediately afterwards, a tremendous power surged into his body like a tidal wave.

That power was so strong, so pure, so unprecedented.

Seraphax was stunned.

Having been mired in chaos for millennia, he had long since grown accustomed to the blessings bestowed upon him by the Chaos Gods.

But most of those blessings came from Tzeentch and Khorne.

Because he loved tactics, was good at planning, and enjoyed manipulating the enemy on the battlefield;

At the same time, he was tactically brutal, enjoying the thrill of personally slaying his enemies.

This earned him the favor of the god of wisdom and war.

Nurgle and Slaanesh had nothing to do with him.

He disliked Nurgle's decay and stagnation, and he disdained Slaanesh's indulgence and pleasure.

He always believed that a soldier should remain clear-headed, vigilant, and maintain his personal integrity.

Even if this self has fallen, has become dark, and has betrayed everything it once was.

But at this moment--

The power of the four gods descended simultaneously.

The power was so immense that it almost overwhelmed him.

It was so powerful it almost shattered him, so pure it made even this eternally the Fallen feel a chill run down his spine.

He felt the power within him almost bursting forth.

Feeling the Power Armour on my body change as power is poured into it.

The black carapace became thicker and more solid, with complex Chaos runes appearing on its surface, each rune faintly glowing.

He felt the sword in his hand changing as well.

The sword became longer and the blade became sharper.

Those mottled marks were reforged by new forces, eventually transforming into a strange pattern.

That was the manifestation of the power of the Four Gods, a form he had never seen before.

A deep look of confusion appeared in Seraphax's eyes.

He raised his head, looking into the void, into the direction from which the gazes were directed, and into the four gazes that were still fixed on him.

"It seems a formidable enemy is about to appear?"

"Or... do you want me to kill even more people here?"

His eyes flickered slightly; his battle intuition, honed over millennia, told him that there must be some deeper meaning behind this unusual blessing.

How could those trashy Four Chaos Gods possibly be so kind?

But then he smiled indifferently.

He turned around and walked to the edge of the platform.

He didn't care what the Four Chaos Gods asked of him.

In this Milky Way, there is only killing and being killed.

The stronger you are, the better.

Even if this blessing originates from a cesspool, as long as it can be used to kill enemies, to destroy Imperium, and to exact revenge on that False Emperor sitting idly on the Golden Throne—

That's good stuff.

He walked down the steps from the platform, preparing to head to the next battlefield.

Karmas has fallen, but the Imperium Nihilus holds countless planets waiting to be conquered, countless humans waiting to be slaughtered, and countless planets beloved by his Gene-Father—

Suddenly, a chaotic noise came from outside.

The sounds were chaotic and disorderly, including the roars of the Beastmen, the screams of the Chaos Cultist, and the excited battle cries of the Khorne warriors.

A cacophony of sounds, like boiling water, rapidly spread from the edge of the camp.

Seraphax stopped in his tracks.

He recognized the voice—it was a member of his gang.

As a competent leader, he knew that his warband could not consist only of Chaos Space Marines.

Without the vast logistical support of Imperium, he had to carefully manage every resource and make full use of all available forces.

Therefore, he has a large number of Chaos Cultist under his command.

Those mortals, though fragile, were numerous.

They can be used as cannon fodder to consume enemy ammunition, as laborers to build fortifications, or as sacrifices to summon demons.

Give them scraps, a sliver of hope, a license to kill, and they'll follow him like dogs.

Therefore, he even had Orks warriors under his command.

Those Orks people are actually quite easy to fool.

All you have to do is tell them that you'll lead them to fight a bigger, stronger, and more Waaagh! war.

These guys will then yell and follow you.

Even if you asked them to attack the most fortified fortress and face the most powerful enemy, they would charge forward without hesitation.

The only cost is--

Even this great warrior had to join those Orks and shout "Waaagh" like an idiot!

Seraphax's lips twitched slightly as he recalled the last time he led the Orks into battle.

That scene was truly... an insult to civility.

But the effect was indeed remarkable; the group of Orks, empowered by Waaagh!, were simply unstoppable, tearing the enemy's defenses to shreds.

At that moment, the noisy sounds grew closer and closer.

Seraphax took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing the doubts brought about by the blessing of the four gods, and put on the expression that a leader should have.

That was confidence, arrogance, and anticipation for the upcoming battle.

He strode toward the edge of the camp, toward the source of the chaos.

There, a group of Orks warriors were gathered around a huge iron pot, which was simmering with some kind of unknown food, steaming away.

Several ordinary Cultists were adding something to a pot—upon closer inspection, it was the limbs of prisoners who had just been slaughtered.

The body of the Vermilion Angel he had just beheaded was dragged out by the Orks.

A massive Ork Warboss was crouching beside the corpse, skillfully slicing open the Space Marines's chest with a rusty knife.

His movements were rough yet precise, and he quickly located the Gene-seed hidden in the chest cavity—two complete, slightly glowing glands.

"Waaagh! Good stuff!"

The Ork Warboss grinned, stuffed the Gene-seed into a tattered pouch at his waist, and then waved his hand.

"It's no use!"

Throw it in the pot!

Several small Orks immediately stepped forward, lifted the body that had lost its Gene-seed, and threw it into the boiling cauldron without hesitation.

Seraphax watched all this, expressionless.

This is the law of the Milky Way.

The strong live, the weak die.

The living eat the dead, and the strong devour the weak.

There is nothing sacred, nothing dignified, and nothing to be honored after death.

Only survival, only strength, only the instinct to continue existing.

He withdrew his gaze and turned to the group of Orks.

"Waaagh! Orks warriors!"

His voice suddenly rose, containing the oppressive aura of Chaos Lord, as well as a fighting spirit that Orks could understand.

"Someone has invaded our territory!"

Their strength is considerable; they are worth fighting to the death for!

The Orks all turned their heads in unison.

The moment they heard there was a fight going on, their eyes lit up.

It was a pure, unadulterated excitement, a primal desire for battle.

They dropped their food, grabbed their weapons, and charged toward the edge of the camp, howling.